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Inspired by remembering her grandfather’s skill with watch repair, Karen Hering wonders how we can begin the work of repairing a profoundly broken world.
It is clear that the brokenness around us and within us today cannot be repaired by returning inner gears into their old alignments. But can we understand our task of repair as one of uncovering the hidden light, first in our own hearts, and then in the world around us? Might this make us, and the world, ready again – for justice, for wholeness, for the beloved community we long to make real? (Karen Hering, February 14)
Dan Harper doesn’t observe Lent, but he admires the spirit of repentance that leads to action.
I can feel the viciousness in the air these days, and I do feel we’re all complicit in promoting that viciousness—yes, even us religious liberals, who are (in my opinion) too ready to badmouth people we disagree with, too willing to pick fights even with potential allies, too proud of our own self-proclaimed virtuosity. I’ll cop to all those vices. (Yet Another Unitarian Universalist, February 20)
Helen Rose celebrates the healing power of love at work in the congregation she serves.
Sometimes, the massive amount of injustice and pain in this world seems beyond daunting – it seems impossible to even fully comprehend, let alone begin to heal. But I get to see firsthand in my job that we are already healing, that love is already winning, because it is alive and well in the beautiful and brilliant children and youth I get to serve. (The Journey So Far, February 18)
Amy Zucker Morgenstern’s newly commissioned stole will have an indirect reminder of Marx’s words about religion being the opium of the people.
Marx is too down on religion for me, and certainly for a religious ritual item. But having a bit of that . . . right at my back will be funny, and a reminder to myself that my purpose as a leader is always to use religion to wake people up, not put them to sleep. (Sermons in Stones, February 14)
Catharine Clarenbach draws an important distinction between clear-headed equanimity and fear-based neutrality.
Equanimity is an even-tempered state, a centered state. . . . It does, though, mean that you may recognize your feelings, where they’re coming from, and not having them drive the bus.
There are times and places when outrage is called for. When letting grief overtake us is okay and more than okay. When we dance in the streets with euphoria and fall on our knees at the beauty of the moon.
Those are not, however, the places from which to make considered opinions. (The Way of the River, February 14)